He pursued me for a while for a date. I don’t know, but he always came around when I was busy, so I kept telling him no. One day, he came to my office. I hadn’t closed yet, but he sat in the lobby and waited until I closed so he could take me on a date.

I gave him 100/100 for effort. I was only going to see how the date would end so I could decide if he was worth it. He was humorous, he liked my kind of music, and the conversation was great. I think I was softening my stance until he had to show me something on his phone, and I saw his wallpaper—a voluptuous woman with a thick behind and in-your-face kind of *****.

It could have been just a wallpaper, but when I jokingly said, "This wallpaper of yours is crazy ooo," he answered, "You women are magic. This wallpaper cures my headache and depression." He burst out laughing. I could see the happiness in his eyes, but I had none of the things the woman on his screen had. You could call me flat, and you wouldn’t be wrong.

I said to myself, "If this is what cures his headache and depression, then what will I be able to cure with my flatness?"

When he proposed, I said no. He said, "I thought we were going somewhere?" I answered, "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong hope."

I might have eventually agreed to date him, but I couldn’t ignore that wallpaper and its healing powers—powers I didn’t have.